(no subject)
I sometimes still look through my old lyrics written in a composition book when I was 17 or so years old. Written in study hall, on the bus, in my futon when I couldn't sleep.
I read them and even though I never wrote down the musical structure or recorded a one, I can hear the songs being sung in my head as I read along. I thought I was so clever and witty, but now it all looks so contrived.
I thought I knew it all. I thought I could defeat the way the world works and just float along, but now I know that it doesn't work that way. I have to have a job to pay the bills. A real job. No rockstardom for me.
I've spent all of this weekend being really, really depressed. I fell asleep at Eric's on Friday night with intentions to wake up on Saturday morning and go to work for a few hours. That didn't happen because I was called at about 7:30 with news that my house had been infested by the last of the fleas that Wendy had dragged in. That explained all the mysterious bites I had on my ankles. But this was far worse than it ever was - I guess they had all hateched overnight and were jumping up on people 8-at-a-time or so. Horrifying really.
So I sought refuge at Eric's only to find out that they knew about the fleas and weren't telling me. I guess I dragged them over there with me and they had been going at the dogs a little.
I decided to stay here the weekend, because the less travel between houses, the better. My folks are bombing each room and spraying like mad and here there are less, so they are just spraying.
So that was a guilt trip. All this being treated like a dirty leper is really getting to my head, though. I keep crying because I keep being told to wash after touching anything and to spray the inside of my car down once more. I can't touch any of my belongings I stowed away in my car without being told not to. It's just horrible. I hate being treated like this. I always have to be the disease-carrier, it seems. I've had the chicken pox, dermititis, ringworm and now fleas. I at least have never had lice. Thank god.
So I just made this car-payment by check and it's going to bounce because of some mysterious $114.75 charge to my bank account. Online I just see the number subtracted, but not what it's from. I don't even recall spending that. I haven't spent anything on anything except gas for the last two weeks. So we'll see what happens.
And I still haven't started that guy's site due to time contraints. Now the shit hits the fan, stress-wise. I have time to do it, luckily. I just need to get going on it or it's death for my rep.
I read them and even though I never wrote down the musical structure or recorded a one, I can hear the songs being sung in my head as I read along. I thought I was so clever and witty, but now it all looks so contrived.
I thought I knew it all. I thought I could defeat the way the world works and just float along, but now I know that it doesn't work that way. I have to have a job to pay the bills. A real job. No rockstardom for me.
I've spent all of this weekend being really, really depressed. I fell asleep at Eric's on Friday night with intentions to wake up on Saturday morning and go to work for a few hours. That didn't happen because I was called at about 7:30 with news that my house had been infested by the last of the fleas that Wendy had dragged in. That explained all the mysterious bites I had on my ankles. But this was far worse than it ever was - I guess they had all hateched overnight and were jumping up on people 8-at-a-time or so. Horrifying really.
So I sought refuge at Eric's only to find out that they knew about the fleas and weren't telling me. I guess I dragged them over there with me and they had been going at the dogs a little.
I decided to stay here the weekend, because the less travel between houses, the better. My folks are bombing each room and spraying like mad and here there are less, so they are just spraying.
So that was a guilt trip. All this being treated like a dirty leper is really getting to my head, though. I keep crying because I keep being told to wash after touching anything and to spray the inside of my car down once more. I can't touch any of my belongings I stowed away in my car without being told not to. It's just horrible. I hate being treated like this. I always have to be the disease-carrier, it seems. I've had the chicken pox, dermititis, ringworm and now fleas. I at least have never had lice. Thank god.
So I just made this car-payment by check and it's going to bounce because of some mysterious $114.75 charge to my bank account. Online I just see the number subtracted, but not what it's from. I don't even recall spending that. I haven't spent anything on anything except gas for the last two weeks. So we'll see what happens.
And I still haven't started that guy's site due to time contraints. Now the shit hits the fan, stress-wise. I have time to do it, luckily. I just need to get going on it or it's death for my rep.